A Life Less Ordinary

Sadness Is A Blessing

2011-11-20T09:57:00.000-08:00

I’m sitting on the Eurostar back to London after a few days in Paris with my sister and her boyfriend. We stayed in a little attic apartment in Le Marais and had a lovely time strolling around the city, sitting in cafes, wandering through galleries, cooking, drinking wine and eating offensively footy cheeses.

It’s been a couple years since I visited the city and I’d forgotten how seductive it is. I fell in love all over again on every street corner, with every beautiful Parisian that passed by.

Comparisons don’t always help much, but Paris has a beauty and infectious bon-vivantism that London can’t touch. It’s such a celebration.

Many of my friends say living in Paris is terrible and depressing and it kills the romance, but as I look toward the new year and my expiring UK visa, I see opportunity there - just like I’ve seen it in Barcelona and Budapest and a dozen other cities.

For a while, I’ve been viewing my boot from the UK (if I do get the boot) as a sentence to go back home, but in the end I can go almost anywhere if I’m willing to fight hard and make concessions. I made a lot of them to stay in London and even now, the fight is still daily for me.

I guess I’ll fight a daily battle wherever I end up next, though: my struggle with the world is not linked to geography, it’s deeper than that; it’s a battle with myself, with my ambitions and with the meaning of life. I can’t shut that off. There’s no snooze button for philosophical crises.

In the end, going back to Canada isn’t such a bad option, if that’s what happens. It would be great to spend more time with my family. Seeing them once a year is the worst. It puts too much pressure on hellos and far too much weight on goodbyes.

I do want the adventure of new places and spaces - it’s good for me to live outside my comfort zone, to start fresh, rebuild and learn to understand the world and myself in different ways. It would be nice if I could achieve that without neglecting relationships that are important to me.

Living abroad and having the freedom and mobility that accompanies that is an amazing privilege, but it also demands sacrifices and trade-offs. Saying goodbye to my sister today - and every time - hammers that message home.

Home - now there’s a difficult concept.

On the road, again.

2011-08-29T04:15:00.000-07:00

Sitting in Vienna Airport, sipping a coffee on my connection to London from Sarajevo. I've enjoyed some time in Bosnia again with the Sarajevo crew - hitting the city for the fourth Ramadan in a row - during a whirlwind road trip through Montenegro and Croatia, then Venice and Budapest.

This is the first trip in a long time that hasn't lent me any sort of grand philosophical introspection or grounding perspective on the life I am taking a break from. I usually return from the road with a renewed sense of where I stand in the grand scope of things, a deep and aching sense of the world's beauty and tragedy.

But nothing. Part of me is worried I'm growing numb, losing my idealism and with it my ability to perceive truth and beauty in my experiences. I feel (almost unnaturally) uninspired, unaffected. But nonetheless, this trip has given me some constructive working points for projects and goals. And I have an ocean of past inspiration lurking in scribbled journal entries and photos. I have so much to tap into, I don't need to maintain the constant high of epiphanies and adventures and scandals that I once thought was necessary.

What's really necessary is focus and discipline, and I'm ready to write and work. I'm ready to cozy up this autumn and really get some work done. I'm ready for more.

I don't want to go back

2011-06-07T00:52:00.001-07:00

It's rare that a weekend away changes you. Sometimes it gives you a glimmer of possibilities, of romance and adventure and new life. Sometimes it casts a heavy shadow on the places at home you already suspected were breeding darkness. Sometimes the shadow stretch across the areas you thought were bathed in light.

Life is confusing. We sit in such a delicate balance between beauty and tragedy, mostly unaware of the precarious nature of our position until the balance shifts. And it shifts so quickly and easily.

I know more than ever the future I want. I know more than ever that I can't keep putting off my calling - the calling I feel - for obligations. I'd rather have nothing than an endless supply of the wrong thing. I'd rather have a chance to try.

I don't want to be wrong.

Out of the void

2011-05-23T00:05:00.001-07:00

It's been months since I've updated my blog. February was rough. I was at my wits' end. I had given up. I was done.

In the nick of time, things happen.

I remember reading this amazing essay by Jeffrey Essman back in the winter called Work Is a Four-Letter Word about a man who suffers through 15 months of unemployment, getting by through freelancing, temping, whatever it takes. He can barely believe it when he gets a job. Life changes over night. He can buy things.

It was an essay that meant a lot to me after 17 months of unemployment and 7 months of couch surfing and subletting, doing whatever it took to get by, while clinging to my dreams. It gave me some reassurance, to know someone else went through this and came out on the bright side. I didn't have the strength of vision to see my happy ending coming, but it did.

I'm now three months into a job - a good one - that I somehow managed to be beat out 1,700 applicants for. That number baffles me. It's a huge number! There's a comma in it!

Day by day I'm feeling stronger and more myself. I'm regenerating, coming out of the void.

Things happen, sometimes, when there is nothing more you could possibly do by your own efforts. And the victory is never quite as sweet, as when it is also your salvation.

Lament for a Generation

2011-02-12T04:04:00.000-08:00

I am young, intelligent, educated, experienced. I have passion and ideas, vision and insights. I am gifted, beautiful, resourceful, refined, gracious and compassionate. I am strong and resilient, hard-working, motivated and empowered. I am intellectually and emotionally attuned. I respect diversity of background and opinion. I embrace change and technology and look boldly to the future, but recognize the lessons of history.

I am a number, a statistic, irrelevant, invalidated. I am unemployed, underemployed, unpaid. I am tired, weak, broken, fragile. I am homeless, wandering, searching, not finding. I am broke, in debt, past-due. I am losing hope, hopeless. I photocopy, staple, file, Excel, but I don't excel. I am undervalued, disowned, shut out and shut down. I am rejected, dejected, forgotten. I am lost.

"My Body's a Zombie For You"

2011-02-02T17:38:00.000-08:00

There are only stories with pain. We need pain to learn, and a story needs lessons to matter.

Screaming and crying and broken glass and broken hearts - it's not worth it. It's too much. Love is as much of a construct as any ideology or religion or cultural custom that is qualified and deconstructed in every university classroom. We know better, but we still believe. We have to believe.

If there's anything in the world we believe in purely and truly, it is love. And we believe over and over and over again, even when love shoots us in the face and we lose so much blood that we almost don't make it.

It takes months - sometimes years - for the wounds to heal, and the scars never completely fade, but fuck, we still believe.

And worse: we hope. We desperately reach out our arms with tears in our eyes and pain in our chests and a rush of blood to our crotches, and we grab for that tortuously elusive someone that will fill our hearts and our holes and makes it all worth it.

But is it? Is it really worth it when so often in the end at least one of us decides that it is, in fact, not worth it at all. Not anymore.

Sometimes it makes for a good story. Good, perhaps only if we still believe. And deep down, we do believe, don't we? Don't you?

Learning

2011-01-12T17:48:00.000-08:00

There's no starting over, no going back. Our lives stretch forward before us endlessly and heavy with promise only once. I am not that fifteen-year-old boy anymore. I won't be him again. I'm myself now, only.

But the future still stretches on, long past my dreams and fears, and far into a future that I am not a part of. But some 15-year-old boy will be a part of that future. And if I play my cards right, maybe he'll read my book.

Maybe he'll read my book and realize his life is already sand through the hour glass, and that he must run and fight and love and make beautiful mistakes with goodness in his heart, before his time runs out too. So much sand falling forever, forever, forever, until...

Another Year

2011-01-04T18:02:00.000-08:00

Keats Island, September 2010

I've spent the last few weeks cozied up in Dalston at K and O's flat. I love them so much, and am so thankful for the hospitality they have shown me. I spent the Christmas holidays alone, for the first time ever. More out of choice, than necessity - there were people in London I could have spent it with. Instead, I spent the days cooking, drinking nice wine, going on snow walks, watching films, reading, writing, prioritising. It was a working holiday, in a sense, and I think it laid a good foundation to move forward from.

Being in Hackney has been a godsend. I've been waiting so long to live here, and it just feels so right. Staying with K and O has also been part of that, because I love them so much, and they really did welcome me into a 'home' for the time I was here. I'm leaving tomorrow, though - subletting a friend's room in Waterloo for the month of January.

After that, who knows, really? It is scary not knowing where one is going to hang one's hat a month from now. Or how one will pay the bills, stay afloat. I've been living under that sky of uncertainty for a while now, and you sort of surrender yourself to it, to a blind hope that things will work out. But it doesn't get any easier. You just learn to have faith and to not think too much about how scary it all is, about what happens with opportunities dry up and the generosity of friends runs out.

Not that January is going to change anything, just because another year has clocked in, but I do have hope that the new year will be a good one. The time for playing games is over, and I've got to grab life by the balls and press on. I think I'm less inclined to the bullshit and timidity I've had before about my talents and abilities, and that's a good thing. I know that life doesn't get handed to you on a platter. The idea that success and progress come quickly and easily is long lost in the idealism of my youth. I know it all comes down to work hard and making your own opportunities. I'm ready.

I know now, more than ever, what I want, and what I can do. I know sacrifices have to be made, and occasionally compromises. I also know that - as a passionate being with a highly moralised view of the universe and my life - I'm more inclined to sacrifice than compromise. That's something many people in my life can't understand, but I do think in the long run that may make all the difference.

2011 is going to be, hopefully, about hard work, about being truthful - to myself, to my talents and passions, and to the people in my life. I spent half the year being tortuously in love with someone I couldn't tell because I have always lived my life with unnecessary conscience. Conscience is important, but sometimes, when push comes to shove, we've just got to live.

Things I want to do less of this year: medicating, hiding, procrastinating, smoking, doubting, complaining, settling.

Things I want to do more of this year: writing, reading, networking, socialising, earning, corresponding, learning, running, risking, loving, succeeding.

Fighting Words

2010-11-29T13:23:00.000-08:00

How do you channel so much passion and anger into a cause? How do you pick a cause when there a million things to be passionately angry about?

How do we focus on fighting for the things we believe in, when our world is so fucking expensive, and paying the bills is a battle on its own?

I need a venue for my talents that uses them fully, that develops them and moves me forward.

I need a venue for my passion and anger that channels it towards something constructive and powerful.

I want change. I want to learn and study and know. I want to know what the fuck I am talking about. And I want you to listen.

I want to connect with people that are subversive not for the sexiness of rebellion and the coolness of alternativeness, but because the engrained badness in the world needs subverting.

Can you help me? Can I help you?

We thought we had such problems. How were we to know we were happy?

2010-11-27T05:39:00.000-08:00

My sister gave me 'The Handmaid's Tale' for my birthday. It's been ages since I've read Margaret Atwood. Her prose is inspirational. It makes me happy to read good Canadian fiction, like it does to listen to good Canadian music. It means something more, like eating nice food grown in your own backyard.

"I lie in bed, still trembling. You can wet the rim of a glass and run your finger around the rim and it will make a sound. This is what I feel like: this sound of glass. I feel like the word shatter. I want to be with someone."

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

2010-11-14T14:31:00.001-08:00

It's November - half way through November, actually! I completely missed October, due to the London Film Festival; missed the leaves falling and the autumn-y romance of London parks.

I turned 25 last week. It wasn't a big deal. I remember 24 seeming like such a THING: I was no longer in my early 20s; I no longer had the excuse of being so young; the years were getting away from me now, and I was no closer to being where I wanted to be.

24, on paper, was a year with more failures than successes. But in reality, it was a year filled with so much trying and fighting, and with coming to terms with what I want, what I need, and getting comfortable with myself in the process. I think I'm a lot more comfortable with everything, actually: more resigned to the ebb and flow of the universe, but increasingly aware of things that will and won't move me further ahead, and more committed to fighting my own personal battles.

I wrapped up my position at the 2010 BFI London Film Festival at the beginning of the month. It was one of the most emotionally and physically exhausting experiences of my life, but I can't begin to say how much I enjoyed it. I've met incredibly inspiring people from around the world, made many friends, and pushed my own personal limits. Hopefully some of the connections I've made will blossom into future opportunities. We'll see!

Last week I was marvelling over the fact that my plan for the autumn - getting an internship, and then going to Algeria to do my novel research - was actually going ahead perfectly. My plans never actually go ahead! Just a few days after being baffled by the realisation that things were working out, I found out my tourist visa for Algeria was not going to be completed in time for my flight this weekend - if it even goes through at all. So I won't be boarding that plane on Saturday.

I'm okay with that. It's thrown a kink in my plans, but the fact that I've actually booked tickets, made the preparations, and put things in motion, means so much on a personal level. I know I'm going - eventually - and that this project, which I believe in so strongly, will be completed.

All in good time, Trent. All in good time.

Now 25, let's do this thing.

Too Busy To Be Sad

2010-10-17T16:31:00.000-07:00

First week of the London Film Festival is done. I've met a million interesting people, while working 16-hour days and running around like a crazy person. Two weeks to go!

I'm starting to feel, once again, like things are possible, like things aren't so grim and difficult. The good thing about being so busy is that I don't have time to think. I've been thinking for a year. Only thinking. And not acting. It's time for some action!

Royal Parks Half Marathon

2010-10-11T15:33:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the Royal Parks Half Marathon, which I've been training for for the past couple of months, to raise money for the MS Society. My friends Eric & James convinced me to sign up in June, and I did so hesitantly, seriously questioning whether I'd even be able to finish. But boy did I improve quickly.

In July, my goal was to finish. In August, my goal was a time of 2:30. When it came to race day, my goal time dropped down to 2:15 or under. In the end...?

2:04! I couldn't be more pleased. A special thanks to everyone who supported me and the MS Society in the race. If you haven't had the chance to donate, it's not too late to contribute. Contribute here.

Down & Out in London

2010-10-06T16:29:00.000-07:00

I got back last week from an amazing visit home to Vancouver, which was incredibly rushed and stressful and busy, but also fantastic and rewarding and great. Being home made me realize how much better my quality of life would be if I moved back. Vancouver is such a beautiful, special place, and things would be a million times easier if I went home. But while I tremendously miss friends and family and the delights of the city, I know that Vancouver isn't going anywhere. And the only thing that got me on the plane back to London was knowing that I always have the opportunity to life in Vancouver. I won't always have the opportunity to be elsewhere.

And really, I think the last thing I need right now is the comfort and safety of home. As much as I want it, as much as I want to feel safe and secure, I know that continuing the struggle is probably going to reap the best rewards. I need to fight these battles. These are the adventures I need to learn from, this is how I'm going to fill my mind with characters and stories, ideas and inspiration.

I hate living the life of a vagrant, which is what I've basically become as of late. I want my own room, my own safe quiet space. I don't want to be a burden to friends, and I don't want to continually feel uprooted, adrift. But this is just for a season, and I know that it is offering me opportunities that I would otherwise not gain. I'm starting an internship for the next few weeks at the BFI London Film Festival. November, I'm thinking seriously about arranging a research trip for a project I'm working on, which is something I could potentially only really do under these circumstances. A lot of good can come from this period, I just need to try and not be so disheartened. Things will pick up and carry on.

If I don't risk having my words misunderstood, I don't give myself the opportunity to be understood

2010-09-08T16:46:00.001-07:00

Literature, music, film.

These are the things I believe in. These are the things that make sense to me, that help me make sense of the world around me, make sense of myself, and my struggle with the universe. It always comes back to these three things.

I don’t want a job. I don’t want your comforts. I don’t want your obligations and your markers of personal success.

I want to be alone. And I want to be in communion with people that are good, curious, different. People that understand. I want to be both alone and in fellowship. To love and be loved, but not conventionally.

I was born an outsider. I was born different. Perhaps to make it easier for me to choose to be different, in the ways one can choose.

Those who came before us, who were lost in the fight for nothing and everything, we take you into our hearts. We take you with us on our own journeys, not entirely aware of what your lessons mean, and how they will help us, but knowing they are important and lasting. We salute you, brave soldiers, sons and daughters of a nameless and timeless revolt.

I'm OK if you're OK, London.

2010-09-03T03:51:00.001-07:00

I'm becoming more aware of the fact that I oscillate between times of clarity, direction, purpose and hope, and other times where I get lost in the fog of confusion, hopelessness, frustration, and despair.

I'm bored of the latter phase, because as much as I enjoy revelling in the sadness of an existential crisis, my despair has been focussed on the same battles and issues for such a long time. It's tired, and tiring.

I've come to terms with the fact that in order for 2011 to go my way, things are going to have to change dramatically, and so I'm concentrating my efforts on new battles within the same greater war. I'm optimistic and excited. Right now, anyway.

I know my emotional pendulum will swing backwards into darker territory eventually (probably soon), but I'm going to try and focus on a few specific projects and opportunities, and as long as I fight for those, I know I can shine my little flashlight and keep truging down the darkened path towards daybreak.

Melodramatic much? Always.

East

2010-09-01T04:56:00.001-07:00

Sitting in Sarajevo airport, waiting for my departure back to London via Munich.

Jelena picked me up at Sarajevo airport on Friday to begin our road trip to Kalsdorf Castle, near Graz, Austria, for our friend Hannes’ party. We ended up spontaneously heading to Pecs, Hungary for the first night, wanting a bit of a detour and adventure and some time alone to catch up. Pecs is a pretty, elegant city, and we slept in a strange bohemian hostel/sheesha bar/vintage store/tea shop, and drank beers in an atmospheric lot, still covered in the bricks and remains of some former building, and now illuminated with projected images and full of music and laughter and picnic tables. I’m totally intrigued by Hungary, and I definitely want to go back.

We didn’t arrive at the castle in Austria until dinner time on Saturday night -- after discovering that there are two towns named Kalsdorf near Graz -- but we spent a lovely evening drinking prosecco and local schnapps and beer, and jumping around on a bouncy castle positioned somewhat ironically in the inner courtyard of the castle itself. It was a great party, and a nice time with new and old friends. At four in the morning we sprawled out and slept uncomfortably on expensive imported carpets, positioned under expensive works of art, but woke up happy and thankful, and shared a delicious brunch in the courtyard with all the partygoers before Jelena and I headed back out on the road, through Slovenia and Croatia, back to Sarajevo.

I barely survived last week, but I did survive. I had to take it hour by hour just to pull through, physically and emotionally. Wednesday and Thursday night I probably got a combined 3.5 hours of sleep. I was wrecked and sad and overwhelmed and pushed to my limits.

I’m now moved out of my flat, and feel heavy with the load of my possessions, which have grown exponentially after two years in London. I need to purge, and let go of things I don’t need. The homeless don’t have the luxury of keeping and storing. So that’s the priority for this week: purge, purge, purge. Lighten my load of possessions, and hopefully lighten my spirits in return. Being without a home is fine when you can comfortably fit your possessions in a backpack. But it took me half a dozen loads in the pouring rain to move my belongings. That’s not cool, in my current position. That’s not a mobile state, in a time that demands a great deal of personal mobility.

This weekend - particularly spending time with Jelena, Ana and Vlado in Sarejevo - has refreshed me, but also made me feel apprehensive and unsure, once again, about geography. There is life and love and inspiration and adventure outside of London. It’s hard to realise that when you’re fighting to stay in a place that makes you work for every inch of space, every inch of success. London is like a vortex, though, that sucks you in and makes you feel like there is no other place to be, even if you aren’t happy there. Few people are satisfied there, but most are convinced of their place in the city.

Leaving London doesn’t scare me, though, as much as it has in the past. I love so many people there, and I love things about it so much, but my life in London, in reality, is not much of a life. Take away the friends, and I have nothing but memories. No job, no home, nothing tangible, nothing keeping me rooted. There’s nothing holding me there, besides... perhaps love and hope and nostalgia? And perhaps, deep down, stubbornness.

I know I want to be in Europe, but this weekend has made me realise that London isn’t necessarily the only place to be, or the best place for me to be, just because I have friends and a visa. Berlin and Budapest are spinning through the folds of my imagination, and occupying higher and higher positions in the platforms of my mind. I’m going to explore the potential in these cities over my month of reestablishing myself. I’m ready for adventure, and possibly a change of scenery. Particularly if opportunities in London don’t materialise soon. And I’m ready to fight broadly for the future, not just specifically, for a single urban dream that might represent the past more than anything.

I don’t want to board this flight. I’ve never been more tempted to walk out of an airport and get back into a cab. London: I’ve been fighting for you for so long. If you want me to stay, you’re going to have to fight for me too, because I’ve never wanted you less. I’m done. I’m hurt and I’m tired and I”m angry. You are being, frankly, kind of a bitch.

Fuck you, London. No seriously. Fuck you, you mother-fucking piece of shit. You’ll be lucky if I take you back. I fucking hate you right now. If you had a face I would slap you until you bled. I would kick your teeth in and pull your hair and leave you in the gutter, like you’ve done to me. I’m not joking, London. Say you’re sorry, you fucking bitch.

I’m sure I’ll forgive you. I always do.

Adventures in Hard Decision-Making

2010-08-26T07:15:00.000-07:00

I've been frozen in inaction for quite some time. With my lease and job coming to and end this month, though, it was time to make big decisions. And the decision I ended up making was one I didn't even realise was an option 10 days ago: homelessness.

I'm handing in my keys tomorrow morning, and I'm no longer looking for another flat. I'll be staying with friends for the next couple weeks, going back to Vancouver for a couple more weeks, then back to London early October. I feel like this is exactly the decision I need to make, the decision that will give me a bit of a financial and emotional reprieve, and allow me to garner some momentum, to concentrate on taking some big steps forward, professionally. That has to be my number one priority right now.

So I feel good about the decision, even if I feel bad about being without a home. I'm so thankful for the generosity of my friends in London, though, who have stepped forward to offer couches and storage and hugs. In that regard, I'm the richest boy in town.

Last night was my final sleep at Warwick Way, and the few hours I managed to squeeze in between packing and cleaning was interrupted by haunting, haunting dreams that left me tired and unsettled this morning, and sad about this transition. But there is opportunity and adventure in the months ahead, and the blessings of friends and of choice, and I need to cling onto the positivity of the situation, and concentrate on things I can productively work towards.

I'm committed to put love on the back burner for now, but the universe is cruel, and I'm not safe in my dreams. Waking up is hard when you get what you want - who you want - only when you're sleeping.

Tomorrow, Sarajevo. Saturday, Austria. Tuesday, back to London. And a couple weeks later, beautiful Vancouver: home. The waking hours are going to be good!

The Day Texas Sank To The Bottom Of The Sea

2010-08-09T06:09:00.001-07:00

I'm homeless in two weeks.

I'm jobless in four weeks.

Worst of all: I've fallen - am falling - for someone.

Damn.

There's absolutely no certainty in my life right now. Everything after September is completely unclear, completely unknown. This is terrifying on so many levels -- where am I going to live? how am I going support myself? am I getting closer or further towards a break, towards success, my goals? But there's a lot to be said for this uncertainty. There's so much beauty in the unknown, so much to learn and be inspired by if you can throw yourself fully into that universal ebb-and-flow of change and transition.

Things are going to come to me, things are going to happen. I feel like I'm at the cusp of transition, after a year in limbo. I need to keep my chin up now, keeping searching and fighting and hoping. And we'll see where the cards fall, come September.

Regardless, I'll do the best I can at playing my hand.

Not this again.

2010-08-02T07:44:00.000-07:00

Thinking about not thinking about you counts as not thinking about you, right? Kind of? No?

Balls.

A Danish Wedding

2010-07-13T05:23:00.001-07:00

Amazing weekend in Denmark, attending Chloe & Casper's wedding, which was in this beautiful old equestrian centre/estate in the countryside, near Aarhus. It was a beautiful wedding, with great friends, amazing food, and copious amounts of alcohol. The perfect weekend, really. And the first time I've left London in 8 months, which is a ridiculous all-time record for me - the longest I've stayed in one place since I was 15, probably.

I've had so many mixed feelings about London, but coming back Sunday night was actually so nice. I love this place. I also hate it, but that's just the emotional tug-a-war of life in this city. It's not easy, but if it were, would we really appreciate it? Appreciate the things that keep us here?

"Who shall I blame for this sweet and heavy trouble, for every stupid struggle, I don't know".

2010-06-10T16:53:00.000-07:00

I'm doing some more temp work, tiding myself over, trying to make ends meet, trying to keep afloat. This last month or two has been really rough. I'm still holding onto London, to being here and putting a life together here - for however long - but it's really becoming a battle to stay.

This temp job I'm doing right now is killing my soul, and also, just making it all-too-clear to me that I'm not cut out for office work, for ANY work-just-for-the-paycheck kind of jobs. I've known this my whole life. I've been working since I was 15-years-old, and I've always found 90% of the jobs I've done to be utterly spirit-crushing. For the longest time, I think I assumed that this was something I had to get over, something I had to get used to. It's part of being an adult, doing things you don't want to do. It's part of growing up, waking up early every morning and feeling profoundly sad about the day ahead.

But I know now, that it's not something I'll ever get used to. I'm not built like other people. I think my spirit is more sensitive to these things, because it was designed differently. And so I'm finally coming to terms with the fact that I'll only be happy in life if I'm doing something that is creatively engaging. I need to tell stories, I need to write, I need to make things that are important and interesting and pure, that relate key aspects of the human experience, that somehow, for someone, make the world a better place. I need to believe 100% in the work I do. And the only thing I believe in 100% is storytelling.

I feel like every force in the world is wanting me to settle, wanting me to compromise and limit myself. Life is short. Don't take risks, you may never amount to anything. You may never be a success! But I want to risk everything for a chance of success on my own terms, for a chance to do only what I love. I will never be happy working in any sort of regular job, even if it affords me a posh flat full of Danish furniture and Icelandic electronics and a cellar full of fine French wine.

Maybe I should be thankful that most jobs make me absolutely miserable. It makes it easier not to settle for anything but that 1%. I just need to figure out, somehow, how to begin working towards that place that my soul, every minute of every day, wants to be.

Discipline! Confidence! Hope! Discipline.

May? How is it May?

2010-05-16T15:48:00.001-07:00

Battersea Power Station on a spring evening

My entries for the last couple months have been mostly pictorial. I guess I just haven't had the words. I'm going to try and find them again.

Since rock bottom, I've managed to get some job interviews. Nothing yet, but I feel like the momentum I'm gathering is leading towards something. I just need to keep plugging away.

Adela moved back to the States a few weeks ago, which was a brutally hard transition. It felt like a break up. We had spent most of our days together for 8 months, and her presence in my life and flat had become so integral to my sense of grounding and balance. As always, life goes on, but this was the hardest goodbye I've had since Jelena moved back to Sarajevo last summer.

I've more consciously started dating again, as the cynicism and disinterest of winter slowly begins to melt away. But the fact is, that I haven't met a single person since the fall that has even remotely piqued my romantic interest. Everyone bores me, and makes me feel boring at the same time. I'm still hung up on November, I think. There's nothing worse than finally meeting someone who seems amazing, and then watching it fall apart before it even begins. And when nothing else of consequence presents itself, I guess you remain holding onto that idea of promise, of untold potential.

I don't want to be one of those people that pines after someone they barely know. I'm not that person, and I always tell those people to move on, to stop being stupid and sad and to get over it. I just find that whole situation unfortunate though, because it was my eagerness that fucked things up, and killed something before it had the opportunity to get good. I think it could've been really good.

But it wasn't, and it isn't, and I need to keep an open mind and try to have faith that there are still interesting, engaging people in this city that are worth the time and effort. But the last season has reaffirmed that regardless, I'm fine. And I could be fine forever, if that's how the cards are dealt.

So, this is what rock bottom feels like.

2010-04-28T09:49:00.000-07:00

London, be good to me.

2010-04-21T17:41:00.001-07:00

I'm running out of time, money, hope, and patience. I need a break, and I need it now.

Why did I drink so much and smoke so much?

2010-04-12T06:02:00.000-07:00

And we talk about music and literature and the cinema, about people and places, foreign exploits, drug-benders and sexual misadventures. We talk about causes and lifestyles and the future, and about how open-minded we all must be to believe in both nothing and everything. And soon the booze runs out, and the cigs run out, and we go to bed feeling alone, no matter who is in our arms.

Nostalgia

2010-03-18T08:38:00.000-07:00

And we remember the days when we believed that we would be happy and successful and in love, and moreover, that happiness, success and love would come quickly and easily, like we were led to believe.

Alright, London, alright... I still love you.

2010-03-09T05:32:00.000-08:00

dépaysé

2010-03-05T03:41:00.000-08:00

City Song

2010-03-02T06:22:00.000-08:00

"The city called me so I came

It isn't mine to question what it said

I sleep until the point when I'm awake

I walk until there's nothing left to trek

And everyone is looking for an answer

And everyone is waiting for a break

I came and I was bored of it soon after

But I had nowhere to go and so I stayed

I dreamed a lifetime of this place

It seemed an awful thing to waste"

Emmy the Great

Over the past week, I've found myself missing Vancouver quite a bit. I think it's the first time I've actually really, really missed it since I moved to London in 2008. I always miss the forests and the ocean and the mountains and the accessibility of beautiful deep, dark wilderness. But Vancouver itself, not so much. So why now?

It may be because the city has been at the height of olympic fever for the last couple weeks, and that everyone seems to be having the time of their lives back at home. Or it may be because it's March and I'm still banging my head against the wall here in London. The city is waking up to spring, but I'm still frozen in the battles of the winter.

Now that I have my 2-year visa - now that I no longer have to fight to be in London - I don't even know if I want to be here anymore. I was convinced that I did, but maybe that was just because I had nowhere else I felt I wanted to go? Or because I was clinging onto something that is no longer here, or wasn't even here to begin with?

The last week is the first time in a long time that I've actually looked at Canada as being a possibility for the future; a place where I am relevant and wanted and loved. Lately I've felt really irrelevant and foreign in London, and like I'll always be an outsider. It's nice to know that somewhere in the world, I'm home, I'll always be home, and I don't have to fight for that right. I may never be a Londoner, but I'll always be a Vancouverite.

I've been listening incessantly to Emmy the Great over the last couple days, and it made me realize that some of the artists I have most fallen in love with over the last couple years have all been English, and tied to the London scene. The music that has resonated with me and kept me going is so entrenched in being young and lost and broken and in-and-out-of love in (and with) London.

I love London. And once I get my shit together, I know I'll be able to see that once again.

"I must've been drunk when we dated, 'cause nobody tells me what to do anymore."

2010-02-23T17:57:00.000-08:00

After a month of visa-related anxiety, and a stupid hiccup that had me convinced I was going to be deported, I finally got my passport back from the UK Border Agency yesterday. I'm a LEGAL RESIDENT. I'm here. And I can be here until February 2012.

So I guess I can begin to feel grounded now, for a while. Which means I really need to get my shit together. I'm really bored with how things are right now. I'm bored with my patterns, I'm bored with my days, I'm bored with the people I'm meeting, etc. It's been a long time since something really inspired me. And this, of course, is all my fault.

The only thing that I'm really thrilled about right now, surprisingly, is the fact that I'm single. I think this is the first time in my life that I've actually really, really wanted to be single. Being with someone, for a while now, has just seemed so unnatural, so foreign. I get why it works for some people (though many of my friends that are with people, it's not working, it won't work), but I just can't envision myself in that position.

Maybe it's because I haven't met anyone I've found interesting in the longest time, maybe it's because I've just grown into my cynicism. I don't really know. The happiest I am right now, is alone: running in Battersea Park, walking on the Southbank, reading in bed, smoking an early-morning cigarette in the quiet solitude of our mews (not that I ever smoke).

I barely even have the stomach to socialise with anything but a select group of friends right now, how could I even begin to fall in love? Gross.

(Still, I guess a tiny part of me, somewhere, hopes everything I just wrote is a lie. I fear, however, that tiny part may be a voice from the past.)

Still crazy, after all these years...

2010-02-08T18:49:00.000-08:00

Hana, Francois & Jean were in London the other weekend for a visit, coming in from Stockholm, Paris & Lyon, respectively. It was the first time I'd seen the Frenchmen since our visit in Paris back in autumn 2008.

Hard to believe it's coming up on five years this July since we all first met, back in the Singapore days. None of us have really changed. It's comforting, but also unsettling.

"I Just Wanted You, I Just Wanted You"

2010-01-15T11:34:00.000-08:00

I was feeling a little bit ill today, after getting the flat all cleaned up for Hana, who is in for the weekend from Stockholm.

I lay down for a while, and my mind flashed back through recent weeks, and I so badly wanted you to be there--here--cuddling me. I needed those cuddles today.

And then I thought about my Grandmother, and about how she hasn't been cuddled or held since my Grandfather passed away when I was 12-years-old. I'm now 24.

She is so strong.

In January, on June: The Transient Beauty of a London Summer

2010-01-10T16:44:00.000-08:00

I was reading a book tonight as I lay in bed, about to go to sleep; a book about London and change and love and growing up. Not a very good book, actually, but somehow its sentiments and geography aroused in me this irrepressible fantasy of Bloomsbury in early June: last June.

It was an interesting time, for me and for my city. London was beautiful and balmy, its streets filling up with throngs of Londoners, who were awakening to the promises of summer, and all that the coming season entailed.

Jelena and I spent the days hunched over coffees and tea, pouring over lecture notes and course readings to prepare for our upcoming exams. We sprawled out on the grass in the pretty courtyard of Goodenough College, or set-up a work station in what became our own little corner at Freddie's. When we needed a break, we'd picnic in Brunswick Square, surrounded by students reading in the grass, shaded by wise old trees, and workers taking their lunches on park benches.

In the restless evenings, which stretched out painfully and beautifully-long before darkness inevitably fell, we'd stroll through Bloomsbury, meandering our way through quiet streets and leafy squares. Everything was in bloom, and London was perfumed with the smell of flowers, accented with the lingering freshness of cut grass.

And there was no better place to be than where we were everyday: right there in the centre of it all, in the bustling heart of London, but where quiet corners of Bloomsbury kept us safely incubated in our own hopes and dreams. After a good day's work, we'd meet Katie for a couple drinks on her rooftop terrace and talk about life, surrounded by the rooftops of Russell Square to the west, and Grey's Inn Road to the east.

Katie and I had both started seeing people at the same time back in April, and over the summer, we were both, slowly, falling in love. Over whiskeys and pints of ale, we'd hash through our pasts and debrief on our present situations. We were both happy and optimistic, but increasingly aware that however beautiful it seemed, however happy we were, nothing was perfect.

Those days exist so clearly in my memory: I can smell them, hear them, taste them, run my mental fingers over the textured intricacies of every moment. I think the intense beauty of our surroundings - of Bloomsbury in June - coupled with the magical sense of promise and possibility that really is a 'London summer', are some of the reasons I remember it all so well, and that it tantalizes me still, tonight.

But it's more than that.

I was so attuned to the finality of it all, that I saw the painful beauty in the transience of those weeks. Jelena, my best friend in London, would be moving back to Sarajevo the next month, a thought so saddening it made me drink in every moment with her, with thankfulness and quiet grieving. In a few weeks I myself would be getting kicked out of my residence hall, and would no longer be perched happily on the edge of the city, in my home on the Southbank, staring north beyond the shadow of the Tate Modern, toward the skyline of Central London. Exams would soon be over, and my year at the LSE completed. Other close friends would soon be leaving, and not long after them I'd be heading back to Canada for the summer to do my field study research. This knowledge of my own departure cast a shadow of doubt on my relationship: a relationship which made me happy in the moment, and in the naive embrace of new love, but that I still knew was probably all wrong, and would, inevitably, end soon.

I remember those days so clearly. It was all so beautiful and sensual, fulfilling and engaging; I was full of love and thankfulness and optimism, but also, simultaneous, cast under this heavy shadow of loss and change and transition: "this moment is so beautiful, but it's dying as I live it."

This is life, though. I know that. Whether stuck in the gloom of a disappointing November, or floating in the bliss of a blossoming spring, life is always changing, moving forward; there's always potential and there's always loss.

I'm so thankful for the memories of last June, for the lessons those weeks continue to teach me about the past, the present and the future. And for how they make me feel, tonight, as I lay in bed and listen to the rain, and wonder if I'm happy or sad, and why.

"Lick your lips and f*ck suicide"

2010-01-07T17:35:00.000-08:00

New Years Eve (and the last party ever) at the Designersblock in Shoreditch = fun, fun fun!

I had an amazing holidays, with my parents and sister in town. They came to London for my Master's graduation ceremony and stayed for Christmas. We spent the time seeing pretty things, eating delicious things, and talking about important things. It was so nice, and the two weeks off from regular life and job hunting really rejuvenated me after the bleakness of my autumn. I feel like I have very little to show for the last few months; nothing really, except some new friendships, some good runs, a completed PhD application, and a general settling-in to the new flat: progress that should represent a month or two, not a whole season.

In the days after my family's sad departure, I found myself slowly regressing back toward the unhealthy emotional/expectational rut of the autumn. But I can't let myself go back there, and I won't. I have to look forward, be productive, and make the year ahead as good as it can possibly be. I have to maintain a healthy mindset and foster a positive outlook. I will get a job, I will get my work visa, I will figure out what I want to do and where I want to be, and I won't be miserable.

Alright, 2010 - surprise me! I'm ready.

Goodbye, Katie. I love you, and I'll miss you!

2009-12-23T14:52:00.000-08:00

(Katie is not dead, she just moved back to the States.)

In the present, on the future...

2009-12-01T11:45:00.001-08:00

Does adulthood mean being persistently attuned to the fact that at any moment, given a certain change in circumstances, one might become:

a) bankrupt

b) homeless

c) alone

d) crazy

e) dead

f) a social smoker?

Or am I just having a bad day/week/month/season?

London?

2009-11-22T16:53:00.000-08:00

Hana at Cafe String in Stockholm

I'm thinking about applying for PhDs for next year, which has also had me thinking a lot about cities and countries and the future, and where I belong in this world.

I've really loved living in London, and part of me can see myself being really happy here in the future. The other part of me still has an insatiable curiosity for the world, and for experiencing life - not just travel - in new corners of it.

I'm not sure whether the fact that I've enjoyed London is necessarily a reason to not keep searching. I was really happy in Singapore, after all, but I know now that having returned would've been the worst mistake of my life. It was a nice chapter while it lasted, but Singapore was not my future.

I spent the other weekend in Stockholm with Hana, and we talked over the options. Hana is from Vancouver too, but we met in Singapore. She's Czech-born, has been doing her Master's in Sweden, and is starting med school in Ireland next year. We've been to 14 countries together across 3 continents. She's my other 'international' friend, and she understands me probably as much as anyone does. Thus, talking to her was really helpful, and discussing leaving London seemed a lot less scary when I was actually outside of England. When I'm in London, it's hard to picture myself elsewhere, like I'm caught in an urban vortex.

Maybe Amsterdam is the place for me? Or Berlin? Or maybe even New York? Or maybe London is indeed the perfect fit, but I'll likely always regret not trying other places while I was young and had the chance. If it's the place for me, I can always come back, right?

I know I learn the most about myself and the world when I'm living in a new city, and I want to keep learning. But at the same time, I also feel the desire for a little bit of stability; to lay down some roots; to build strong friendships; to perhaps have a long-term relationship.

London could be a great place to assert myself, to build the life I want. This prospect has been somewhat clouded by the fact that things have been really rough lately. I have been in a rut, and so I guess I have seen my life in London as also being in a rut. But things will pick up, surely, as they always do. And London will continue to be that great bustling metropolis; representing beauty, diversity, challenge and opportunity. I guess only time will tell whether that's going to be enough to keep me here.

I'm tired of being disappointed...

2009-11-12T08:53:00.000-08:00

but I don't want to lower my expectations.

Guy Fawkes Day in Clapham Common

2009-11-09T17:48:00.001-08:00

I'm not in love, except with Autumn

2009-10-25T16:41:00.000-07:00

Today is Sunday, and I spent it sprawled out in a pile of autumn leaves in Finsbury Park, watching children, dogs and lovers frolic around me in the colourful leaves that littered the ground. It was beautiful.

I'm not in love, I don't have a job, our shower is broken, our internet isn't working, the days are getting colder and darker, and I have no idea what I want from my life, but still, I'm happy. Today, I'm happy.

Adorned with the fleeting warmth of the autumn sun, crunching alone through the leaves with nowhere to go and nobody to see, I realized that for now, this is all I really needed.

This is all I really need.

Back in the Fast Lane

2009-09-27T08:23:00.001-07:00

Sarajevo

My first week back in London was a bit shitty. I got the worst jetlag I think I've ever had, and wandered around the city like a zombie. So many of the people I loved in this city have moved away in the short time I've been gone, and their ghosts lingered on street corners. To make things even more grim, the rain began to fall. And fall. And fall.

I booked a ticket to Sarajevo, and 36-hours later I was greeted at the airport by my dear Jelena. Two other close friends who are moving from London to Singapore (sad!) were also visiting her, which is a large part of the reason I decided to go. We had a great time in Sarajevo, which really charmed me the second time around, and then spent the weekend in Dubrovnik, soaking up sunshine beside the sea. They had rented an amazing flat just outside the walls of the old town with a great view over the harbour and the city, and a little garden in the back where we drank too much at night and recovered over coffee and breakfast the following mornings.

I came back to London totally rejuvenated. Being with people I love - and possibly the people that understood me and tolerated me the most in London - was exactly what I needed. I had no idea how drained I really was, never really getting a holiday after the dissertation wrapped up. It was the perfect last-minute decision.

And now I'm back to London, out of the funk I was in, ready to move on and start (re)building a life. Applying for jobs, getting settled into our new flat, making new friends, maybe even dating again. Life, as always, moves on. And I'm okay with that.

One battle won; the neverending fight of London approaches

2009-09-03T13:09:00.000-07:00

The dissertation is done. Done! Not necessarily done well, but printed and stapled and submitted and, therefore, finished.

Right now I'm sprawled out on the sofa on my parent's patio, wrapped up in a light blanket, listening to the late-summer rain fall around me, Noah and the Whale playing in the background. I just want to be alone here in this moment. I don't want to go anywhere, and I don't want to see anyone, and I don't want to do anything. I just want to be alone and quiet.

But I'm returning to the bustle of London in 5 days, and I've got far too many goodbyes (and hellos) to say before then, and so much to do to get ready. Oh, London. You seem so far away from me right now. And I'm afraid to return to you. I don't want to start living again, just yet. And London forces me to live, or even more, to fight to live. And that reality, as I lay here listening to raindrops fall on the green leaves of the backyard garden, is a bit overwhelming. I'm not sure I'm ready to fight again. Yet.

Nothing Gold Can Last (or how a beautiful moment is a sad soliloquy in the works)

2009-08-22T16:02:00.000-07:00

I took a break this afternoon from my slowly and poorly evolving dissertation to glance through some old family photo albums. The past is amazing and beautiful and so tinged with a faint-but-ever-present sadness. But it's a beautiful, sweet, poetic kind of sadness; people's frozen fearless smiles hide a myriad of dreams that would never come true, and dated outfits conceal wounds and insecurities that you will never know about the people you thought you knew completely.

Nostalgia is about remembering, but in a way, it is also about knowing. Knowing better now, in the present. And knowing that you know nothing, still, like then, when you thought you knew everything.

Awesome haircuts, too.

A Saturday night alone with my dissertation (and three love songs, that really aren't love songs, but are kind of about love in some way)

2009-08-16T00:19:00.000-07:00

I've been sitting here all night, trying to find the discipline to finish transcribing the last of my dissertation interviews, but not able to turn off my music and give my full attention to a recording of someone talking about Mountain Pine Beetle policy failure. The music has won tonight, like it usually does.

And it has won because I currently feel like Joni Mitchell in "Both Sides Now"

"I've looked at love from both sides now
From give and take, and still somehow
It's love's illusions I recall
I really don't know love at all"

..and sometimes like Karen Carpenter in "Goodbye To Love," the most brutal song ever.

"...and all I know of love is how to live without it"

But it's songs like this that keep me going; songs that meditate on the little slices of magic in the world; in the moments that, however brief, however fleeting, make us marvel at how beautiful the world is, and how sometimes, everything can change in a moment.

"I met a girl on Halloween
When she was lost, and I was drunk
And it was dark and cold out

When we left

And as we walked the rain started
The leaves softened with every step
And all around us people slept

Alone with their dreams"

On layovers, long and short...

2009-08-12T23:00:00.000-07:00

I've been in Vancouver for a few weeks now, after a weekend in Toronto and a quick stop in San Francisco on my way back over. I've been plugging away slowly at my dissertation (ahhh!!! two weeks to go!!!) and trying to keep my chin up in the face of a heavy heart and a tired mind.

The last month has been pretty rough-and-tumble. But I'm putting the pieces back together. Or life is, anyway. It's good to be home. It's good to be with family I love, and friends I love, in a place that I love.

I'm going to be just fine, I'm sure. Until I'm not again. And the journey continues...

Vancouver

Keats Island

San Francisco

Toronto

The End; The Beginning

2009-07-02T03:51:00.000-07:00

What a miserable week. Starting to say goodbyes to friends that are leaving London, many of which I will not be seeing again for a very long time. I myself am moving flats tomorrow, leaving my beloved Southbank behind to stay with friends in West Hampstead before returning to Canada in a couple weeks. I still haven't booked a flight, which is ridiculous, and adds so much stress to an already stressful enough chapter. My last dissertation meeting with my supervisor is tomorrow. I'm not prepared. I'm overwhelmed. And just trying to get packed is too much for me. How did I accumulate so much stuff? And how can I pack myself neatly into two suitcases?

The icing on the cake this week has been the break-up. Our two-month was (uncelebrated) about a week and a half ago. Things haven't been as good lately, nor have they been bad, I've just assumed that the problem was the typical British emotional unavailability, and that once that was overcome things would be better, like they were in the start. But I think I secretly knew that wasn't the problem; it just wasn't meant to be. I can tell myself that, but that hasn't changed the fact that I've been shocked twice now to find myself in tears, both times when talking to my sister on the phone. I'm not sure whether I'm crying over the break-up, even, or just the disappointment. This year in London has been so amazing, and simultaneously so laden with disappointment. I think part of the reason I was hoping this relationship would last over the summer until I returned to London in September, was just to finish the year with a blazing victory. To return home triumphantly in love. But there's no triumph in a love that isn't meant to be, and I know my heart will catch up with my head soon enough in that regard. I know I'll get over the ache, as I always do. It's always just so sad saying goodbye to people. Because yes, you say goodbye to all their bullshit and their ridiculousness and the things that piss you off and drive you crazy, but you also say goodbye to the qualities that captured your heart in the first place, and the ones that redeemed them in your eyes for so long, and the things you know are specific to them, specific to your time together, and untouchably special despite the way things turned out.

Sorting through all my junk and papers yesterday, while listening to a break-up mix CD I made for a friend in the spring, I came across a ticket stub for Breathless at the BFI from our second date, when we first held hands, a ticket for High Gate Cemetery, the day we had our first kiss, and a pamphlet from the Wetlands Centre, the date that confirmed things for me. It's been a great fling. And I think thinking of the beginning yesterday made me so much sadder about it all, but also so much more aware that things are no longer as they were.

And so begins another transitionary period. Yet another one.

The Emotional Journey of an Academic Year

2009-06-11T11:16:00.000-07:00

It's June. I remember the shock of June 1st, of finally realizing that summer was arriving, that the year was finishing; that my time at LSE was rapidly approaching the end. And now, amazingly, it's June 11th. Already. Another 10 days evaporated away into the ether. But in that time, three exams have been done (hard exams!), and just one left to go. Things continue moving forward. I get kicked out of my residence in less than a month, and I'll be heading to Canada for the summer just a few weeks after that.

I was scanning through some of my blog postings from the past year in London, and paging through some of my journal entries, trying to make some sense of the year behind me. I've been thinking about how fast it has all flown by, about how much fun I've had, and how it's been such an amazing, fun, easy-going year. But retrospectively, after looking through my entries, it's been a LONG and hard year in London. It hasn't been easy. Not at all.

Part of coming to London was the opportunity of LSE; another part of it was the need to get away from home again; to have some space; to find myself on my own terms, away from the pressures and constraints and routines of home. And I think I've done that. It's been a rough road, getting to a place where I feel comfortable with who I am and where I fit into this world. Even then, I have days were nothing makes sense and I see a heavy fog descend upon the path ahead.

The winter was particularly challenging for me in that regard. I felt strange and awkward and lonely and misunderstood. Disappointment after disappointment, coupled with the grayness of London and the snowy lull of Christmas in Canada, locked me in a weird state of restless surreality. Nothing felt real or tangible. I felt really, really lost.

All the while, London was my salvation. Falling in love with its dark winding streets, green parks, and warm pubs was what held me through with my chin held high. There was so much anger and frustration and dissatisfaction in me, it sometimes caught me off guard. I never realized how much baggage I have. But the load is getting lighter. Or maybe I'm just getting stronger, and more capable of carrying it?

It's been an amazing year, however, and while it's been emotionally challenging, and very low at times, the highs have been VERY high. I've had a ton of fun, met very interesting people, and have had exciting adventures in new lands. What's more, my spring fling appears to be continuing on into the summer. It's been seven weeks now, and it's getting better, not worse. A nice way to end this chapter at LSE.

Damascus

2009-05-16T05:42:00.001-07:00

Few places on earth have enchanted me as much as Syria.

Spring Fling

2009-05-12T16:56:00.000-07:00

Well, it's spring in London: the days are warm and long, the air is filled with pollen and cotton, and smiling people are coming out of hibernation to fill green leafy parks and bustling streets. In short, lovely.

I've been seeing someone new recently, enjoying somewhat of a spring fling, which is making the season all the more enjoyable. It's only been a few weeks, but it's been surprising and interesting and a lot of fun. There's nothing quite like falling for someone in the spring. There's so much optimism.

Jordan

2009-05-12T04:39:00.000-07:00

A brief return to London

2009-04-15T10:41:00.000-07:00

Tracey came to visit.

I also found a new potential love interest. Potentially the best I've found so far. I know better than to get my hopes up by now, but I'm being optimistic in general these days, instead of in specific. It's the only way I'll pull through.

Date three, after Cyprus, Jordan, Syria, Lebanon... And yes, I'm tired already.

Santorini!

2009-04-15T10:33:00.000-07:00

Hana and I had a lovely and relaxing time on Santorini, drenched in beer, sunshine, and melting gelato. On the last night we got blasted drunk, talked to about 50 people, and danced with half of those we talked to. In the chaos of the evening my journal got lost. Months of writing gone. Sad. Also, it creeps me out to know that a random Greek will be getting into my head. Though, they might be even more creeped out by what they find there.

Athens!

2009-04-09T05:17:00.000-07:00

Vienna!

2009-04-03T02:19:00.000-07:00

The second time was a charm. Vienna won my heart.

Goodnight and Goodbye, M.

2009-03-16T08:35:00.000-07:00

All good things come to an end. This week's casualties: LSE classes and another relationship.

My Heart Is Where The Waves Crash

2009-03-01T16:42:00.000-08:00

It's March 1st, which is scary, as I only have 3 weeks of class left at LSE. It's nearly Spring now, and I actually saw cherry blossoms on Portobello Road the other day. We've been getting some lovely mild sunny days, and picnic season is now in the foreseeable future. I also, maybe, am falling for someone. It's too early to say; I don't want to jinx it, but it's nice. It's really nice.

Today I was having a late-afternoon brunch with my friend Ariel. We both had tons of school work to do afterward, but we talked of how nice it would be to get out of the city and take a bit of a break, have a bit of an adventure. And we did.

Two hours later we were in Brighton, just in time to grab a cup of tea and watch the sunset from the beach. I miss the ocean so much, and it was so invigorating to spend a couple hours there listening to seagulls and to the waves gently caress the pebbled seashore.

And as it goes with a city you love, it was nice to come back to London too.

The Waiting Game

2009-02-17T11:37:00.000-08:00

If there's anything worse than the general awkwardness of dating, it's the waiting: waiting the appropriate amount of time to text/call after the first date; waiting to get a text/call after a nice date; waiting in-between dates for the next date; waiting to get over someone; waiting to find someone new; waiting, waiting, waiting...

We're a culture that craves instant gratification, instant pleasure, instant results, but you can't stick two people in the microwave for 30 seconds and expect to create a nice, warm mug of love when the timer goes off. No, things are never that easy. In the real world, you just end up with two dead people and a criminal lawsuit. And then you have to clean the microwave.

In short, blurg.

What is wrong with me?

2009-02-11T17:21:00.001-08:00

I'm sitting here trying to write an essay. I'm not being successful.

Things I want this week: adventure, romance, fiction, art and music.

Things I need this week: patience, discipline, focus, confidence and perspective.

Things I can't stop thinking about: your smile, the world, and what the hell is wrong with me.

...I think I need to get some sleep.

One Nice First Date

2009-02-09T15:32:00.000-08:00

I had a really nice date this evening. After the last few, I've been wondering if I'd ever have another nice date. Now I'm wondering if I'll wake up tomorrow thinking of you? Or if you'll wake up tomorrow thinking of me?

Blurg. Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Trent.

How I Fell Back In Love With the Cinema

2009-02-04T13:17:00.000-08:00

Several weeks ago I went to see The Reader with some friends one evening after class. I cried my eyes out; it was the hardest I've cried in recent memory, and I needed it. I can usually only cry like that at the cinema, and it's so cleansing, cathartic.

Film has always been my salvation. There wasn't a time since I was 12 that I wasn't writing a screenplay or filming shorts with my friends. I was always reading indie film blogs and watching movie after movie after movie... And then something changed over the past couple years. Finishing undergrad meant that I had to start thinking about careers and life and to try and be pragmatic about things. Film got lost in the mix. I began traveling voraciously, and reading and writing fit perfectly into that lifestyle. Film did not.

I'm the film editor for the LSE paper, but last term I probably only saw 3 or 4 movies total, none of which were any good. I've watched some really great films lately, and it's reawakened me to my connection with cinema. Film is where all of my passions intertwine: words and narrative, music, design, composition, romance, philosophy. I still don't know if I could ever convince myself to try and start a career in the film industry, but I'm thinking about it once again. I know I want to tell stories, but film has become such a daunting medium.

Last night I watched Rachel Getting Married, which reminded me so much of Festen (The Celebration), but was also good in its own unique ways. It made me yearn for those people who have know me my whole life, who know where I've come from, what I've been, the good and the bad. I miss having those people around in times of personal crises. I miss crying with them, deliberating with them, arguing, finding consensus, agreeing to disagree, agreeing to love each other despite. I've got a wedding coming up back in Canada over the summer which will catapult me back into the arms of those people. I'm really looking forward to being 'me' amongst people who have always known me. There's something about weddings that facilitate honesty and vulnerability. I suppose it's the blend of retrospection and nostalgia, coupled with new beginnings. And I suppose that's why weddings make such good movies!

Sometimes London Makes It All Better

2009-01-29T05:54:00.000-08:00

It's amazing how quickly things turn around in life, and in London. What a difference a month, a week or a day - or just a good night's sleep - can truly make.

I was walking home today along the Thames with the sun shining down on me while I listened to Patrick Wolf's "The Magic Position." Some of my best moments in London have been walking alone along the Thames listening to music that fits perfectly in the moment. And when the sun bursts through the clouds after days of rain and grey, it makes you take a look around and recognize how beautiful things really are. It brings me back to centre.

I've got two dates arranged next week - two dates that came, more or less, out of nowhere - with people who both seem worthy of the aforementioned butterflies. But moreover, I'm more in-tune with the fact that I see a dozen faces everyday that I could easily fall in love with. The opportunities abound. There's no reason to get discouraged. Life is good. London is great. I am really happy.

London really does make it all better sometimes.

(Not) Finding Love (In All The Wrong Places)

2009-01-26T11:43:00.000-08:00

I went on a few dates recently with someone who was kind and sweet and smart. The conversation was easy, and the company was good. On our last date we walked along the Thames holding hands and enjoyed a good-night kiss; by all accounts, quite nice. A third date was planned, but I was having serious second thoughts: there was no spark, no butterflies, no elation when I received a text message or phonecall.

I've been talking with several friends about the realities of love and dating. It seems, generally speaking, that there are two broad camps, and the line dividing those camps hinge on one rather ridiculous notion: butterflies. There are those that demand it in a relationship, and those that are willing to keep an open mind and work around the fact that sparks may not be there initially.

I saw this recent love interest as a real test as to which camp I stand in. On paper, I believe all people have value and are worth the time to get to know. I don't think you can judge your compatibility with someone based on whether or not they make your knees weak. But at the same time, all I really want is to find someone who makes my knees week. There's nothing more exhilarating, more grounding, than feeling that way about another human being. I need to believe that we live in a magical universe where fantastic things really do happen; where someone amazing will storm into my life, and the romance will fall from the sky like rain.

And so I cancelled the third date. It was an awkward and sad conversation that stretched to 40 minutes, instead of the 10 minutes it should have taken. I felt so bad to disappoint a decent, gentle person who, on so many levels, is looking for exactly the same things I am. What's worse, they responded that they were beginning to feel butterflies for me. That really killed me. Lately I've been mostly on the receiving end of heartbreak, and this was a good reminder that it's just as terrible on the other end. My heart is just too fragile for dating, sometimes.

But I will lift up my chin, I will straighten my collar and tie, and I will head out onto the beautiful streets of London and live my life. Just the idea that someone amazing is waiting out there for me makes being single a lot easier. It makes everything a lot easier.

And so I wait.

New York City

2009-01-20T16:12:00.000-08:00

An Ode To Vancouver (at yet another departure)

2009-01-08T22:13:00.000-08:00

I spent my last evening in Vancouver catching up with a dear old friend, Diana (something that appears to be becoming a bit of a tradition, as I also spent my last evening in the city in the fall with her before moving to London). It was nice to catch up; I like listening to her, and sharing my ideas with her; I value her friendship and her complete lack of judgement and pretension. She is going to be a lawyer, but she can also appreciate the beauty in a poem and a sunset. That is why we get along so well.

After our coffees (and buying a hip, red, vintage shoulder bag at True Value Vintage) I headed to Six Acres in Gastown for goodbye drinks with friends. I love that place a lot (exposed brick, airy windows facing Gastown’s lovely main square, great international beer list, cute hipster servers, menus bound in vintage children books, and dramatic readings of Doctor Seuse books playing in the restrooms). I love my friends too - gathering a group of a dozen lovely and loved people together in my favourite (former) hang-out warms the heart. It was a nice last night.

And as things go, the snow that has hounded me during the last couple weeks turned to rain yesterday, with balmy 6-degree weather finally melting away the feet(!) of snow that has handicapped this lovely (normally warm) city; pushing the white horror far, far back into the forgettable minds of disgruntled Vancouverites. I knew it would turn right, rightwhen I was leaving. But the snow made me spend time with family instead of friends; at home instead of at my island cabin or at the bar. That, retrospectively, was important. I love my grandparents and my parents and my sister very much, and I needed that time with them. That time won’t always be there.

And today, after driving through the fast decaying remains of snow drifts on the way to the airport, a promising brightness emerged in the sky. And - quite fittingly - the sun burst through the clouds as I was sitting on the tarmac at YVR, waiting to take off for New York City. Vancouver was returning to normal, right as I was returning to London.

Vancouver, you are a cheeky dame, and I love how you make me work for it. And I realize that I no longer have to say goodbye to your frosted mountains, blue waves, gentle beaches and glass towers, because a piece of me remains behind with them every time I leave, waiting to be reunited and made whole when life brings me back... home.

I Still Love You Vancouver, and I'm Sorry

2009-01-04T23:21:00.000-08:00

Vancouver, I still love you. I’m sorry I sometimes forget about all the good times we’ve had together. I’m sorry that I overlooked your beauty and charm; I’m sorry that I underestimated you. I still long for your beaches and forests and streets, despite the fact that I may be happier elsewhere for a time. I’m thankful for everything you have given me. You gave me wings, Vancouver: wings that have shown me the world, but allow me to fly back and visit. My love for you remains.

~

The snow has continued to fall throughout the rest of my holiday in Vancouver. I have gotten to do very little as a result, and the inconveniences don’t appear to be going anywhere. Today I woke up with a horribly violent flu that had me hallucinating and drifting in and out of consciousness. I was very thankful to have my Mother by my side, feeding me liquids and comfort (even if she was the one that passed on the bug to me in the first place).

I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed by life at the moment. I see so much “busy work” in the months ahead in London, and I’m not sure where it will all take me. I wish some things could be more certain, like what I want to do next year, and where I want to be. I have such a long list of things I want to do: read books, write books, make art, see art, travel, succeed with school, make new friends, find love, etc. I can’t do it all, and I wish I had more wisdom as to which areas I should be spending my time on.

I was talking with a friend about love and relationships the other night, and we are both so disenchanted and lost in this department. I find it hard to picture myself meeting anyone anytime soon, but the idea that there is someone out there who is absolutely amazing makes me smile. I want to believe there is someone amazing out there; I need to believe it.

Maybe in 2009 I will meet you? Maybe you are the face that I am picturing now? Or maybe you shall remain faceless, elusive. Either way, I have a feeling 2009 is going to be important for me. For better or for worse or for....

A Year In Review

2009-01-01T19:22:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year, everyone!

Cities I visited for the first time in 2008:
Valletta (Malta), Valencia (Spain), Porto (Portugal), Amsterdam (Netherlands), Istanbul (Turkey), Basel (Switzerland), Marrakech (Morocco), New Orleans (LA), Savannah (GA), Charleston (SC), Raleigh (NC), Montreal (QC), Toronto (ON), Ljubljana (Slovenia), Zagreb (Croatia), Dubrovnik (Croatia), Mostar (Bosnia), Sarajevo (Bosnia), Oxford (UK), Normandy (France), Sevilla (Spain), Belfast (Northern Ireland)

Cities I revisited in 2008:
Stockholm (Sweden), Paris (France), Cologne (Germany), London (UK), Seattle (WA), Portland (OR)

Favourite Books read in 2008:
Someday This Pain Will Be Useful To You (Peter Cameron), all the Harry Potter books

Favourite Bands discovered in 2008:
Chris Garneau, Cut Copy, Noah and the Whale, Slow Club, The Albertans, Two Gallants, Page France, Cloud Cult, Miracle Fortress, Final Fantasy

Best Shows attended in 2008:
Hot Chip, Miracle Fortress, Chris Garneau, Okkervil River, Micah P Hinson, Teitur, Tobias Froberg and Peter Moren, Born Ruffians

Vancouver Is Just a (beautiful) Place

2008-12-29T15:21:00.000-08:00

If there is anything Christmas has been this year, it's snowy. Inconveniently snowy. Snow everywhere! Snow always! Snow snow snow!

After a cold 2 days stopping over in Toronto, I was looking forward to balmy Vancouver, but I arrived home to record low temperatures and historically high accumulations of snow. Shit - it was crazy! It's finally starting to melt, leaving pools of slush and brown water on the streets of Vancouver. Not romantic, but at least I can leave the driveway now.

I'm sitting in a cafe on Commercial Drive right now, sipping tea and thinking about things. I love travel because I feel like it offers a chance for me to objectively see my world; the distance allows me to gain perspective on my own life. Being in Vancouver has given me a bit of that perspective. Which scares me, I suppose, as that makes it feel all the more like I'm a visitor here. It doesn't feel so much like coming home, as it does like I'm a guest in a place I used to live.

After living in Singapore, returning to Vancouver was a real homecoming. I still had another year of University left after my return, and all my friends were still here. Even though Singapore became my home while I was away, Vancouver still embraced me as home when I came back. Now I'm visiting for the holidays, with no intention to move back anytime soon. I suppose that's the reason I feel like a guest: it doesn't seem like home because I don't see myself here anymore. Or because I don't want to see myself here.

I'm meeting a former love interest for tea at this cafe in a few minutes. How does one greet someone that one used to love (ish), and then didn't, and now doesn't? And how do you greet them for the first time after not seeing them since the time when things were very, very different? With a hug? A kiss on the cheek? ... A handshake?

Life is so awkward. Blurg.

Toronto (is not my lover)

2008-12-25T23:23:00.000-08:00

I stopped in Toronto for two nights on my way back to Vancouver for the holidays. Part of me just wanted to see it (it's my country's largest city, and I've never actually been) and visit some friends, but another part of me was window shopping for a new city. It seems like in the last year or two, every time I go to a new city I’m more consciously assessing whether or not I can see myself there. I know Vancouver well (obviously, it’s my home), and find it has a combination of beautiful urban qualities unmatched by any other global city I’ve been to. I love it, but I’m not convinced I’m meant to end up there forever. London I love, and I can picture myself being very satisfied there long-term. The cultural and professional opportunities - coupled with the general charm of the city and the (Vancouver-like) mild climate - are exactly what I’m looking for. But at the same time, I’m open to another city sweeping me off my feet; I’m open to an endless number of urban possibilities.

Toronto is (in many regards) the cultural and economic centre of (Anglo) Canada, with a population twice the size of Vancouver’s. I like the fact that the music scene is better, that so many companies are headquartered there, that I can get a good job easily, etc. On paper Toronto seems like it has a lot to offer me, and so I was totally open to being charmed and courted. And to be honest, I was partly hoping it would win me over. Five million people seems like two-point-seven-million more opportunities to fall in love and be happy than in Vancouver. But in the end, Toronto didn’t really reach out to me. I realize you can’t really make judgements about a city in 36 hours, but sometimes you just know. I liked it, but I'm not sure it's in my cards.

And so, my thoughts return to London. Beautiful London. I’ll see you again in three weeks! Though I must admit that I’m going window shopping in NYC in January, and as always, I’ll keep an open mind.

One Day in London

2008-12-22T14:27:00.000-08:00

I was back home in London for one day between Stockholm and heading back to Canada for the holidays. It just fell so good to be back in the city without the stress of school and the newspaper and travel and applications. Weirdly, it seemed like I was the only one in London that day, and I kind of liked it. The last few weeks have been so hectic, and having a day to myself in the city I love was exactly what I needed.

This is taken on the Victoria Embankment on the Thames Path, along the route I take to school everyday.

Stockholm (again)

2008-12-20T22:11:00.000-08:00

After a bit of a downer week, some close friends gave me a much-needed kick in the pants. With the ensuing attitude check, I had a fantastic finish to the week in London, before flying to Stockholm for the weekend. Between my friends and all of Tracey’s friends, there were a million people to see. A lot of friendly familiar faces, and plenty of new ones too. Everyone seemed to be in Stockholm this weekend - it was great!

On Monday I went into overdrive to finish my creative writing portfolio for Brown by the application deadline (11:59pm EST). With the help of some new-found inspiration, I was able to put a solid ending on a story I’ve been working on over the last couple weeks in London. I really liked the style and general direction of the piece, but somehow the plot had gotten away from me and I didn’t think I’d be able to include it. Alas, I was able to backtrack and take it in a new direction that - I think - worked quite well. It was a bit of a victory, and finally getting my portfolio in the mail felt great. It doesn’t matter so much whether I get into the program now, what matters is that I was able to finish some really good pieces that I am proud of. Very encouraging.

Winding, winding down...

2008-12-10T09:41:00.000-08:00

My first semester at LSE ends tomorrow. It's been a great term. I've met amazing people and have had a really good time. It's gone by too quickly, of course, and it's kind of depressing to think I'm halfway through my program. I suppose the real goal of studying here is to attach an MSc to my name from a really prestigious university, but for me, going to school is more about the GOING, not so much the finishing. I don't really like the finishing part, particularly when you're having such a good time.

In other regards, I go back and forth between feeling good about things, and being terribly disappointed in myself. Part of coming to London was for me to have an opportunity to get closer to my best self. I love this city so much, but as far as personal goals, I haven't really moved any closer to becoming the person I want to be. I've got so much work to do on myself, it sometimes just feels just too overwhelming. And life here moves so quickly, if you don't really dig your heels in, it's quite easy to get swept along in the chaos. It's quite easy to move forward without really moving forward. That's part of what I love about London, though. Even though I recognize it's kind of dangerous.

I'm applying for a Master's program at Brown University. It's in literary arts, and it's hella competitive. It was my dream for the longest time, getting into Brown. Now I'm not so sure. I see so much potential in London, in the millions of faces walking through the streets of this beautiful dynamic city. I feel like there are so many stories here; so much to learn and experience. Even though the program at Brown is fantastic (and I would be LUCKY to get in), I can't help but wonder how hard the adjustment would be moving to Providence, RI. It's a lovely little city, and an Ivy League school, but... well... London has a hold on me. And I suppose only time will tell how strong its grasp is!

Weekend in Belfast

2008-12-02T17:40:00.000-08:00

Went to Belfast for the weekend with some friends. It was frosty and freezing cold, but thankfully the streets were lined with plenty of warm, friendly pubs. Besides that, Belfast is interesting and also not too interesting at the same time. Not a whole lot to see, but we enjoyed mulled wine and festive treats at a very nice Christmas Market in front of Belfast City Hall.

I returned home on Monday evening (December 1st) to see that my local cafe had put up a Christmas tree. Hard to believe I'll be on a plane for Christmas in Canada now in just over 2 weeks. The fall has melted away. Life does that when you're having fun.

A Weekend in Sevilla, Spain

2008-11-27T15:20:00.000-08:00

I had a really nice past weekend in Sevilla (Seville), Spain with friends from LSE. We downed palate-pleasing pitchers of sangria and tasty tapas; strolled down orange-tree-lined streets bathed in warm sunshine, and sipped cafe con leche in lovely medieval squares. Mucho relaxing.

23rd Birthday in Paris

2008-11-18T04:37:00.000-08:00

I spent my birthday in Paris, staying with François and his family. Jean and his girlfriend Elodie came up from Nice, and Hana came down from Sweden. It was a really nice weekend.

We spent one day in Normandy, touring the beaches and the war cemeteries (and stopping to sample some cider along the way). It actually felt really important to be there. Seeing cross after cross of 18-year-old, 20-year-old, 22-year-old, row upon row, really put things into perspective.

Jean's lovely girlfriend spoke very little English, so Hana and I tried our hardest to speak as much French as possible. It was exhausting and made me realize how bad my French has gotten, but also it was a lot of fun. Every time I go to France I realize again how much I want to live there at some point, and how important it is to me to get my French up to par.

Also, yes, I'm 23. Two years from 25, which is only 5 years from 30. I'd like to say I don't have a problem with getting older, but part of me really believed I would've accomplished a lot more by this age. I think my 15-year-old self would be simultaneously proud and disappointed by where I am right now. I'm not 100% sure which side he'd be leaning towards; I suppose it doesn't matter anyway.

Halloween Magic

2008-11-04T07:19:00.000-08:00

As the weather got colder and the days got shorter and the icy winds blew autumn leaves past my feet as I strolled the dark grey streets of London, it was more than apparent than Halloween was just around the corner. But alas, I am no longer in Halloween territory.

I tried to round up some friends for an evening outing to an atmospheric english cemetery, telling scary stories by candlelight. No takers. I know I'm ridiculous, and I recognize that most people are not.

Luckily Jelena and I were able to go to a candlelit screening of Nosferatu (1922) in the old Union Chapel in Islington. It was very cool, very gothic, very halloweeny. But as we walked out of the church at the end of the film, our jaws dropped as big white snow flakes fell gently upon our faces. It was pure magic! A snowstorm in October!

We found out the next day that it was the first October snow to hit London in over 70 years. So while it was not the Halloween magic I was searching for, it was a great big slice of halloween magic nonetheless.

Chris Garneau: The Interview

2008-10-26T15:06:00.000-07:00

As promised earlier, here's the Chris Garneau interview. The feature based on this goes to print this Tuesday in PartB of The Beaver, for any of you in London. Check out my official music blog project here.
_______________________________

TM: You’re in the middle of your second European tour this year, touring with the same albums and hitting a lot of the same cities. What’s different this time around?

Chris Garneau: This time around I have a piano, which is one important difference for me. It makes my shows a bit easier to play. But you know, I am looking forward to putting out the next album. I am a little bit tired of touring this record. It’s been two years, but it seems longer than that because I was touring a bit before it came out too. And I’ve been actually playing in New York for years before it came out. So I’ve been really actually playing these songs for like, 4 to 5 years.

TM: What do you pack when you’re on the road? What’s essential?

CG: I’m getting better at packing. You know, I wish I had cool, funny things that are cute. I don’t, really. I have selected clothes and a computer. And a couple books that are in French, because I’m trying to relearn French again. And, you know, that’s about it. I try to keep it to a bare minimum.

TM: You started Music For Tourists when you were a teenager, and you’re now 25. Playing these old songs over and over again for years, do you feel like that’s locked you in the past? Particularly considering that these songs deal with some pretty heavy personal issues?

CG: It sort of just makes the anticipation for playing new material higher and higher. It’s not that I don’t still have attachments to a lot of these songs, but in a sense because the majority of them were written so long ago, I sort of see how my song writing has changed. And I just become very excited to play new material for people. So it’s not like dramatically keeping me in the past, but it just makes me anxious to play new material.

TM: Some of your songs - like Baby’s Romance, which deals with molestation - are pretty intense and personal. You’ve said it’s been really cathartic for you to write them, but does it become tortuous when you’re playing them over and over again, years later?

CG: No, it really doesn’t. There’s some times - and not very often - where a song will sort of make me personally emote, like to myself, where I realize that I’ve sort of gone through something again suddenly. But that’s pretty rare. Each of these songs are sort of in me, and they just come out and then they’re gone. I perform them - and they are just performances in a way. They’re pieces I’ve written, and they were cathartic to write then, and now they serve as art that I show to people.

TM: How is it for your family to listen to that kind of material, which is also personal to them?

CG: I think in the beginning, when they first heard these songs... it was quite challenging for them to hear. But it never was to the point where they felt like they wanted to be detached from me or from what I did. They still continued to support me very strongly.

TM: In your interviews you’ve been an open book. You’ve talked about your sexuality, your love life, child abuse, drug abuse. Is there anything that’s off limits or that’s too personal?

CG: I guess not. There’s nothing that I won’t really discuss specifically. I don’t really like delving into sexuality issues or child abuse issues. Besides being honest about the facts, I don’t really find there to be too much to discuss otherwise. And I find it to be distracting to what I’m trying to do in general, which is to play music. So when people overly examine the sexuality issue or the child abuse issue, I get sort of frustrated.

TM: You and your boyfriend Grant Worth just released a polaroid photography project? Can you tell us about it?

CG: Yeah, I’m glad you brought it up. We were working on photos at home for a couple years. He makes videos, but as far as photography and film, he just uses polaroid. So we’re always working on stuff, but we decided we should actually start an official project.

It started with doing a birthday set at home, so we baked a big ugly cake and made a whole birthday scene. And then after we shot that first one, we decided that it would be kind of cool to make a few different settings. And then that’s where we drew the inspiration from the Choose Your Own Adventure Series books. Luckily we had some summer travel plans, so we were in a few different interesting locations. We were in the redwood forest for a couple weeks, and we did another set there. It was really fun, and now we’re selling some of our favourite ones.

TM: You’ve talked a lot in the past about your love of animals. Playing music and playing with animals can both be very isolating. Do you not like people very much?

CG: I love to spend time with my friends. I don’t really like being around a lot of people, in the sense of cities and stuff. Like even in New York - it sounds weird cause I live in New York, but I do live in a smaller neighborhood in Brooklyn - my house is in a fairly quiet little area. And I don’t really ever have to go into Manhattan for anything special or important. So I kind of stay in the parameters of a few blocks for the most part. And end up doing not a whole lot besides either being at home or spending time with my friends. So it’s not that I don’t like being around people, I just don’t like being around chaos. So home ends up being the best place for me.

TM: Tell us about the new album.

CG: It’s coming out in the end of winter 2009, and I’m very anxious to put it out. I think it sort of has some strings attached to my first collection of songs, but it takes a bit of a different direction in the end. And as a whole, it’s a bit more of a conceptual record, and it’s more organized, and slightly less random. And there’s just a giant group effort on the whole record; there’s a lot of people that played on it. There’s percussion on most of it, which is sort of a big leap into the future for me. Lyrically speaking, it’s different in such a way that it’s a bit less of a self-focused record. There’s songs about other people besides myself, if you can imagine that.

TM: What’s your idea of success?

CG: [We] were driving in the car down to a show a couple days ago, and it started pouring like one of the craziest rains I think I’ve ever seen in my life. It was really kind of scary. We were in the mountains in southwest France, and heading towards the Alps, and leaves were blowing around, and it was just crazy, crazy weather. And I was just thinking that... a really comfortable place for me to be in my career, would be to be doing well enough to not have to be the one to drive through hurricanes and storms in the mountains. That would be kind of a nice place. I don’t need to have a big crazy Mariah Carey tour bus.

I wanna make sure that I’m able to still keep putting out records and writing. I have plans for the next record, and the record after that. And I wanna make sure that I can do that comfortably. And that’s all I really want. But you know, maybe to be able to have a little country house and city apartment. Just kind of... simple dreams, nothing too extravagant.

A Beautiful Fall Day in Oxford

2008-10-25T15:25:00.000-07:00

After yet another stressful week, I headed to Oxford for the day on Friday to relax and explore with friends from my program. It was sunny and crisp, and the city was adorned beautifully in autumn splendor. We finished it with a great healthy meal at the Nosebage and got nicely drunk on red wine for the bus back to London. Fantastic.

Miracle Fortress on Brick Lane

2008-10-22T07:48:00.001-07:00

Well, last night combined two of my loves: one from home (Canada's Miracle Fortress) with one from my new home (London's Brick Lane). Graham Van Pelt and his cast of musical magicians were hitting up 93 Feet East yesterday evening, and I was lucky enough to get on the guest list thanks to connections at The Beaver.

Virginia and I headed over early and hung out in the bar for a bit, where they had a monthly arts night going on (arts & crafts, book club, poetry slam, etc). Cool, chill people (I love East London), and the girls that organize it actually work at the Tate Modern, my beloved neighbour.

I was feeling pretty shitty last night, but the concert was still pretty magical. I love Miracle Fortress so much, and they make me want to try Montreal one more time. They make me want to roll around in cotton candy and dance till the sugar melts.

Weekend Visitors & the Week After

2008-10-21T05:11:00.000-07:00

Veronika & Virginia were in town this weekend finishing off their Euroventure. It used to be weird hanging out with friends in strange cities (or having friends from home visit me in another city), but for the last couple years that's just become regular life. It's nice. It's special. It's fun.

Really looking forward to Paris in November. Skyped with François last night, and he scared the shit out of me, telling me the horrors we would endure in exploring the catacombs (the non-touristy illegal ones). Apparently I should expect to be up to my waste in cold muddy water after squeezing through sewage pipes and crawling over piles of human bones on my stomach. Obviously I'm really excited about dying underneath one of the prettiest cities on earth.

Me and You and Everyone We Know

2008-10-18T05:14:00.000-07:00

A crazy stressful week in London, but a success. I got a presentation on environmental economics vs. ecological economics over with, and while it was the least prepared I think I've ever been for a presentation, and the worst one I've probably ever given in my academic career, it wasn't an outright disaster. In any case, it's done.

Stress two was the Newspaper. This week's theme was "comics," and as nobody was willing to write anything about that for the film section, I was left to my own devices. I went to the Of Montreal show on Thursday evening with my friend Susan, which meant I woke up Friday morning bleary-eyed and with a deadline 8-hours away.

And so, I emailed my friends Jordan & Ben for some advice, and they helped get the creative process going (I love you guys!). Then I got an email from the PartB editors saying they were turning the entire PartB into a comic book this week. That actually made things a lot easier, given my time constraints. I took some of the points J&B brought up, photographed some friends, matched the dialogue to the photos using Comic Life, and success!

Met some friends in Southwark later in the evening and we talked about life and love (and lack there of). Loneliness is interesting. It's amazing how absorbed we can get in our own loneliness, to the point where we often don't even realize that the people around us are feeling the same way. Me and you and everyone we know.

I don't understand love. It's so intangible, and yet it defines everything I am looking for, hoping for. I'm trying to concentrate on THINGS I love, because I don't see any other alternatives. I think if I keep walking my journey, keep fighting for things I find beautiful and meaningful and worth while, maybe I'll meet someone.

Maybe, baby.

Pop Punk & Spoken Word in Shoreditch

2008-10-14T15:23:00.000-07:00

Well, my sweet-motha'-of-a-friend Susan took me to the Old Blue Late, a bar owned by Vice Magazine in Shoreditch, for the Japanther concert on Sunday night. It was my third consecutive concert night, and a bad decision for my studies, but how could I say no to Susan and free music and Shoreditch? These are all really good things. Her ex is a music producer/promoter, who actually put out Japanther's album, and so she was on the guest list and got us in for free.

There was some weird spoken word delivered by a sweaty gentlemen of a certain age, to the soundtrack of Japanther and a flute. It was unique, and kind of the highlight of the evening. Also, the first mosh pit I've seen in a long time. I thought those had become totally unfashionable in the age of the polite and soft-spoken hipster?

This week has gotten crazy busy for me between school and the newspaper and poor decision making. I want to have a torrid affair in the streets of London. I want to move to a cabin in the woods, drink wine over candlelight, and write a novel about said affair. I want something to hold onto. I want someone to hold onto. I want London to rock my world again this week.

The Week of Chris Garneau: How London Made It All Happen

2008-10-12T16:52:00.000-07:00

Well, this week has totally rocked my world. London has opened so many doors, and I've been walking through them recklessly. The week started with my first round of classes, progressed to me getting really sick, and finished with a festival of words and music.

School is going well, I suppose, though I haven't started my readings or thought too much about my classes, I must admit. I went to a couple meetings this week for different Uni Newspapers, and was planning to write for a journal as well, but I ended up interviewing with the editors of PartB - the arts and culture section of the LSE Newspaper, the Beaver - and I got the position of Film Editor! It's a bit of a commitment, but I'm excited to sink my teeth into something non-environmental policy, and hopefully I will meet some other creative-minded folks amongst the masses of serious, serious LSE students.

Just when my week was getting exciting, I got the word that I was interviewing Chris Garneau (one of my absolute favourites) this weekend. I was ecstatic! Friday night myself, Christian, Jelena, and her friend Katie headed to Kilburn to hear Chris play at the Luminaire. I had heard he was tiny, but really, he's probably the smallest grown man I've ever seen in my life. He plays up the cutesy childish mannerisms on stage too, and it's really adorable. It was a fantastic show.

I was supposed to meet Chris Saturday afternoon for tea, but he called in the morning to say some things had come up and that it would be better to meet at the venue in Camden Town later in the evening. His van got stuck in traffic, but he got to the Roundhouse in time for setup and soundcheck, which I was, of course, more than happy to sit and watch.

Afterward I got to sit down with Chris for about a half hour in his dressing room and chat a bit about the past, the present, and the future. He's a really nice guy, and meeting him made me appreciate his music a lot more. It made already beautiful music seem more... human. And I was pretty good, I think, for my first interview.

I stayed behind after and caught the show. He was opening for Adrian Crowley, and so it was a very chill crowd (everyone sitting down cross-legged and listening attentively). A very nice evening, and a perfect end to a very good week in London. On the tube home that night I got hit on by a very drunk and affectionate British girl, which was embarrassing for both of us. I got the royal treatment from Camden to South London, and it was all-around unfortunate. Needless to say, the people in the train were entertained.

Thanks London, for making some of my dreams come true, for giving me some hope, and for keeping me on my toes.

Notting Hill & Beyond: A Lovely Autumn Day in London

2008-10-08T13:50:00.000-07:00

Jelena and I decided we had spent enough time in the library reading (or pretending to), and decided to take a day off to explore Notting Hill. It was sunny and crisp; a beautiful fall day.

We walked up and down Portobello Rd, had some coffees and snacks, and then walked back to central London through Hyde Park, which - in the peak of fall - couldn't have been lovelier.

We topped off the evening with dinner at a veggie/vegan restaurant in Covent Garden called Food For Thought, which came highly recommended by my friend's Christian and Susan. The lines scared me away last time I walked by, but we managed to squeeze in this evening.

I've been having a really rough time being a vegetarian here, since I don't have any kitchen access, and I'm (theoretically) living on a budget. This has meant that I've mainly been eating cold sandwiches and salads, and have NOT been getting a very balanced diet. But tonight I had winter root vegetable mash with wild mushrooms and vegetables. It was a piping hot bowl of veggie love, and exactly what I needed. I love you, Food For Thought! I will see you soon!

Police, Pints, & Perspective

2008-10-04T09:22:00.000-07:00

Well, my first official week in London has passed along sweetly. I had my LSE course induction on Thursday, where the details of my program were laid out, and I got to meet the rest of my classmates. We had a night out on Brick Lane, which was, of course, good East London fun.

On the walk to the pub, I got stopped by the police with my friends Kenta and Christian. They asked to search our bags as part of the ongoing terror watch. Being a snot, I asked to see their badges. They showed them, laughing a bit at the use of the apparently American term "badge" (they also asked me where in America I was from, and I responded "The 51st state. Canada!").

They gave us receipts for our records, but I used my "rights" and refused to give them my name and details (Police: Where do you live? Me: South London. Police: Well, that's pretty vague!). They were friendly, nonetheless (as were Christian and Kenta, who politely complied). When I got home however, I was disgusted to see that the officer had put my height as 5"8. Rude!

Yesterday we had a club night at LSE for Fresher's week. We had a beery and unhygienic game of flip cups, an American frat-boy classic, followed by lots of sweaty dancing to a regrettable soundtrack. On the walk home, I stopped on the middle of Blackfriars bridge and looked out at the Thames. It was windy as hell (as I've discovered London just always is), and the breeze whipped at me in a way that I could swear was cheeky but endearing.

I had spent the last week hurrying around the city, trying to look as local as possible. It's paid off, as I've had people asking me for directions almost daily (and so far, I've always been able to answer correctly). Last night, though, I threw that to the wind (literally), and just stood there for the longest time on the bridge, soaking in the city: my city. It feels so good to be here. Life is easy, for the first time in a long time. And I say that not really even knowing what "life" and "easy" really mean to me anymore.

But regardless, things are good.

I see London, I see France, Germany, India, Japan, USA...

2008-10-01T05:27:00.001-07:00

I went to a pub night yesterday with people from my program. I'm really starting to love them more and more. It's a fantastic group. The countries represented include (and there are many more we haven't met yet): Canada, USA, Venezuela, UK, Germany, France, Austria, Netherlands, Bosnia, Italy, India, Israel, Japan...

When they said "behind the Tate Modern," they really meant BEHIND THE TATE MODERN.

2008-09-29T07:29:00.000-07:00

So, I moved into my residence yesterday. I really love the area, and even more, I love my view. The Tate is one of the most debated pieces of London architecture - people love it or they hate it. I've always loved it, but now I've got a full year to ponder it from my bed.

Flats, Friends & Football

2008-09-28T16:21:00.000-07:00

After viewing several disappointing flats that left me somewhat disenchanted with the idea of London life, I went out for dinner with a new friend Christian, from Boston. Afterwards I crashed into bed, and awoke to an email from the LSE accommodation board saying I had been accepted into the Bankside House residence off the waiting list. I was ecstatic! Bankside House is right behind the Tate Modern on the south bank - about a 20 min walk to LSE and central London. Hurray!!!

Saturday was spent in Regent's Park with people from my program at LSE. We had a picnic and then played football in the grass in bare feet for almost three hours. It was intense, but great group bonding. They seem to be some really quality people!

2008-09-25T08:43:00.000-07:00

I’ve left behind the country that gave us the neck tie and the dalmatian, and have returned home (?) to London to start up a life for myself. I had an amazing time in the Balkans, and the last few days in Zagreb were fantastic. Hanging out with Veronika’s cousins and their friends has given me special and highly personal insights into the country. I couldn’t have asked for more.

On my last night in Zagreb we went to a graveyard outside the city centre designed by the architect responsible for some of Zagreb’s greatest buildings. It was stunning and eerie, and the evening light, fall leaves and quiet breeze made it seem... otherworldly. Veronika bought flowers to place on the graves of her Grandparents. It was strange, nice.

As we left the cemetery I finally found the Zagreb feet shot I had been waiting for. It seemed apt, given my departure.

I’m excited. I’m stressed. I’m nervous. I’m optimistic. I really hate my hostel - from hearing drunk Aussies moan and groan in dorm-room sex acts, to being woken up every two hours during the night (by Drunk Aussies). Seriously... why has the lowest common denominator of Australian backpacker chosen my hostel?

I need a home. Some viewings tonight, and every finger and toe on my body is crossed.

Postcards from Zagreb

2008-09-22T15:22:00.000-07:00

Last night we had a bit of a party at Veronika’s cousin Tamara’s flat, and I got my mind blown by philosophical debates under a heavy cloud of cigarette smoke (and lots of wine) with Tamara’s intelligent, cultured Croatian friends. The chain smoking and drinking somehow made it seem much more... academic? But seriously... I can’t believe how much they smoke here!

Tonight Veronika’s other cousin and his girlfriend took us to a town outside Zagreb called Samobor for hand-made Croatian pastries and strong coffees. Both of them are incredibly well-educated (he has two Phds and she is a doctor) and it was very interesting getting their perspectives on all things Croatian.

On the drive home he played a cover of “Romeo & Juliet” by Dire Straights and it brought me back to a time in the past when I was so carefree and optimistic about the future. For the first time in a long time, though, I think I’ve started to regain that optimism. I feel like London could work out to be something really good for me.

There’s also someone I think I could love in London, which is likely a foolish thing to even consider at this point, but I’m usually the biggest fool when it comes to these things. And somehow, I'm kind of starting to like that about myself.

I forgot to take a picture of my feet in Zagreb, and alas, have broken the theme I was going with. :-( But maybe it was getting old, anyway.

Bosnia and Herzegovina = Bosna i Hercegovina

2008-09-21T10:30:00.000-07:00

Back in Zagreb after my whirlwind trip through Bosnia.

Mostar was beautiful. It was the most heavily hit city during the war, and the scars are still visible everywhere. I discovered this to be true all over Bosnia and Herzegovina: bombed out buildings and gunshot holes everywhere. The money just isn’t there to restore everything, but in all other regards it seems life has returned to normal.

Sarajevo was fascinating: eclectic, pulsing, diverse. Jelena, a girl who is starting the same program as me at LSE, met me at the bus station and graciously showed me around. She’s a Canadian who returned to Sarajevo four years ago.

I took the bus from Sarajevo to Zagreb yesterday, a trip winding through green, fog-shrouded hills and tunnel after tunnel. I listened to music for 9 hours on my iPod. I had so much thinking time it was pure luxury.

I listened to these albums:

Alanis Morissette - Jagged Little Pill Acoustic Version
The Albertans - Sex With An Angel EP
The Arcade Fire - Funeral
Cut Copy - In Ghost Colours (twice)
Fleet Foxes - Fleet Foxes
Final Fantasy - Has A Good Home
Hot Chip - Made In The Dark
Joni Mitchell - Blue
M. Ward - Post-War
MGMT - Time To Pretend
Neutral Milk Hotel - In The Aeroplane Over The Sea
Sigur Ros - Takk
Summer Hymns - Backward Masks
Wolf Parade - Apologies To The Queen Mary

Three more nights in Zagreb with Veronika and her family before I head back to London and attempt to start a real life.

Relaxing in Dubrovnik, Looking Forward

2008-09-18T13:53:00.000-07:00

I have had a really relaxing time in Dubrovnik. Veronika and I licked many ice cream cones while staring out at the crystal-clear Adriatic Sea (and away form the hoards of tourists) while the sun kissed our skin and the breeze kept us cool.

It's a charming town. I've told Veronika a hundred different reasons why it reminds me of Malta, and a hundred different reasons why it doesn't. I don't know why Malta comes to mind these days, and Veronika doesn't know why I keep mentioning it.

Off to Bosnia tomorrow. Excited about it, but haven't done any research at all and am completely unprepared. And so I will definitely enjoy getting lost and looking like an idiot. Damn, I wish I had a guidebook or something. Oh well, the road beckons...

On the road again...

2008-09-17T03:07:00.000-07:00

Sitting on the train from Ljubljana to Zagreb (from where we're bussing on to Dubrovnik). I’m listening to a band called Stribruch, whom we just bought a CD from in the main square in Ljubljana, where they were rocking out on classical instruments. We sat there on a bench licking ice cream cones and listening eagerly. Their sound was maniacal gothic baroque rock. Pretty.

Ljubljana was pleasant. I’ve wanted to go there for the longest time, and was thrilled to be able to meet my dear friend Veronika there. We are heading to Croatia for about a week before I return to London for registration at LSE.

My first weekend in London proved to be stressful. There were some hassles with luggage and flats and all sorts of stupid things. Thankfully I have a good friend in London that, out of the goodness of her heart, saved me from what was turning into a disaster. I may not have a flat, but at least I have one nice friend.

It felt good to be back in London. I don’t know if it will ever feel like home, but it felt great to be surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the city again. I am really looking forward to making such an iconic city my own, to the opportunity of getting to know it more personally.

Mostly I’ve been fine the last little while - optimistic about the future and happy about the present. But I’ve also been getting these waves of overwhelming dread. I think it might have something to do with the fact that I’m homeless at the moment. I think it might also have something to do with the fact that I have no idea who I am anymore. And no idea where I belong in this big little world.

Oh, youth...

Montreal

2008-09-15T13:41:00.000-07:00

So, I’ve really trimmed down...

After losing 30 lbs (after my switch to a balanced vegetarian diet, sans sodium, caffeine, and refined sugar, and jogging 15-20 kms per week) none of my clothes fit anymore. I dug deep into my drawers and purged nearly everything, as nothing fit any longer.

It was, yet again, another chance to start over. Filling bag after bag with clothing for charity was far more therapeutic than I could have ever imagined. It scared me to realize that I had so many clothes in my possession, I had actually lost track of what I owned.

After the great purge, I can now name every item of clothing I own, probably right down to my socks and underwear. That’s an empowering feeling in an age where people are always looking for more closet space. I can fit everything I own nicely in a suitcase and move across the world without having to pick and choose. It all fits! Though I must admit, I took two suitcases with me (just because I could).

I spent a few days in Montreal on my way to London, England: my new home.

In my suitcase, you will find:

8 T-shirts

5 dress shirts

3 pairs of jeans

1 pair of pants

1 pair of shorts

1 cardigan

This is still a lot, I suppose. It’s definitely excess, but it’s an improvement. It feels great to have such a manageable collection of possessions. I wonder how it would feel to have only 2 changes of clothes. I really do believe that the fewer the material possessions, the lighter the soul. My soul needs to be lighter. And lets be honest, so does my body. I’ve got a long, long way to go.

I have a dream that I will lose another 30 lbs and be emo skinny, and then will go on a trip with nothing but a change of underwear, a camera, and a toothbrush. I have a lot of dreams though, you see. A lot.

Montreal is a city that I have long dreamed about. I always thought it would feel just like home to me. I expected to be blown away by it. I expected magic and fireworks on every corner. I didn't find it.

I think you have to be in love to really enjoy Montreal in all its glory. In love, and fluent in French. At the moment, neither are realities for me. But they are both dreams.

Blurg...

Finishing Up, Starting Again

2007-11-18T23:03:00.001-08:00

Well, just two weeks of classes left before finally wrapping up my BA in December. And just two weeks until I write the dreaded LSAT, which I'm lucky to have fall the morning after two research papers are due. It's gonna be great!

Things are winding down in that regard, but I'm right in the thick of law school applications for fall of next year. I've gotten a handful in already, and a long list left to trudge through. And, at this point, I have no idea what the payoff will be until I get this LSAT taken care of. The pressure mounts!

Snow!

2006-11-26T14:32:00.000-08:00

The First Snow of the Year!

What? I have a blog?

2006-11-24T13:08:00.001-08:00

So, I recently discovered that I have a blog! What a nice surprise!

I created it in the summer of 2005, just before heading off to Singapore for the year. I guess I had the bright idea of writing about all my experiences abroad, but... something went wrong in execution. That something being me completely forgetting my blog existed.

Myself in Singapore

Anyway, it has now been rediscovered, and I shall do my best to keep the internet community posted on all my adventures. The timing is perfect, seeing as I am no longer living abroad and experiencing interesting things.

And, back in beautiful Vancouver, Canada.

To be fair, though. I'm lucky enough to call home one of the most beautiful and livable cities in the world. With my basket full of experiences from the last year, I'm living life back home with a new perspective: live everyday as if you were a tourist. This philosophy has made the everyday a lot more interesting, and hopefully this shall translate into an equally interesting blog.

So, internet community, let me introduce myself~

Trent, 21, Male, Single, Student, Vancouver, Canada;
Lover of travel, food, film, music and culture.